Page 3

I hope he likes tequila.

Cadence stands less than a foot away from him, wearing no more than a few square inches of fabric on her whole body. I watch as she shakes his hand. He holds on to it a second too long, smiling with teeth brighter than the sun.

My sister looks like someone just sat her in front of a buffet after weeks without eating. Her eyes are trained on him as they exchange greetings. He makes some remarks about her name, asking if her parents played the drums in a marching band, at which she laughs. I bet if he didn’t have those glasses on, we would all see his direct gaze at her full breasts. With the way they’re hanging out of her bikini, I have a hard time not staring at them too.

I keep my attention on the pen in my hand and the drawing on my skin.

From the corner of my eye, I notice my sister’s friends scatter, going inside or leaving for all I know. And I understand why. Alexander has a presence. If I were a man, I wouldn’t want to be around him either. Everyone and everything dwarfs in comparison. My mom calls him up to the bar where she has his drink waiting, but in order to get there, he has to pass me, still sitting in my lounge chair.

At first, he regards me with a lazy glance, but just as he’s completely blocked the sun, his eyes on my face, he stops.

“And who are you?” he asks.

Slowly, I lift my gaze to his face. Then, my name falls out of my mouth on its own as if summoned by his request. “Sunny.”

“What’s that?” he mumbles, nodding toward the intricate blue design on my inner thigh. I gulp as I look down at the now faint azalea.

Somehow, I’ve forgotten how to speak. When I look up at him, his smile is gone, and his sobering gaze is on me.

Up close, he looks the way money would look if it were a man—crisp shirt, well-trimmed hair, a watch that probably costs more than our pool…but it’s the faint scar cutting through his eyebrow that snags my attention.

After a moment, when it’s clear I won’t answer his question about the ink on my leg, he lets out a sexy chuckle.

“Nice to meet you, Sunny.”

He walks away, but the imprint of his gaze on my inner thigh lingers like a touch.

The ring echoes through the phone five times before the voicemail picks up.

This is Daniel Thorn of Thorn Talent Management. I’m sorry I missed your call. Please contact my assistant, Ilsa Levi at [email protected] if you can’t reach me. Thank you.

I let the silence settle for a moment before I start speaking. “Hey, Dad. Me again. Wondering if you wanted to meet this weekend. Maybe do lunch. Ilsa can come. I’m not going to email her, though, like your voicemail message said. I’m not a client. I’m your daughter. So maybe just pick up when I call. Just once would be fine. Or you know…call me back. Whatever.”

I hang up before I can say please. Staring at the black screen, I pick it up and scroll through my recent calls, counting the outgoing ones never answered.

Seven. Seven since he last answered, and that was a month ago.

Tossing it back on my bed, I pick up my sketchbook and finish the dark tree sketch, adding detail to the leaves the way they look out my window against the cool sunset.

Cadence lands on my bed with a crash, totally fucking up my sketch.

“Cadie! Dammit.”

“Can you believe Alexander fucking Caldwell was here?” She grabs a pillow from my bed and starts doing vulgar movements with it. “I bet he has a massive cock.”

“You’re disgusting.” I laugh, taking the pillow from her before she can hump it anymore.

“You’re just jealous.” She plants a margarita-scented kiss on my cheek.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Out cold. Let’s hope she stays that way.” Her voice is only slightly slurred. My sister can drink as much as our mother without the mean and nasty side effects. Cadence is funny, loud, and overtly sexual when she’s drunk. Mom is almost exactly the opposite.

Hence why Dad left six months ago.

Well, that and his twenty-two-year-old secretary.

“Yeah, forever,” I mumble, not even feeling bad for it. Some days I wish she were dead because then at least I could miss her. At least that way time and death could conjure up positive feelings about my mother while I forget the bad parts.